McCaine thought, softly tapping his hand on the table. “Okay. What does your prognosis look like if this goes on as it has been?”
Collins changed the transparency. The screen showed a picture of many lines crisscrossing, some of which had been clumsily highlighted. “The current trend, looking positive at first, will continue for at least ten years, twenty more likely, but only absent of political upheaval. Our model isn’t yet capable of taking such things into account. We will continue seeing increases in production and living standards too: strong in developed countries and weaker in the rest of the world. The increased productivity is fed mainly by reduced barriers, such as border controls being dropped or reduced, fewer language barriers, and trade barriers among other factors. Inhibitory incompatibilities are being reduced or removed, which frees reserves of productivity that have to be used to overcome all these hurdles. To put it in simple terms, the world is growing together in every aspect, communications, economics, and culturally.”
McCaine nodded. “Honestly, I don’t see anything bad with that.”
“Fundamentally, I agree with you. But there is a reason for everything, what we lose is the previous heterogeneity. What is not initially obvious is that the process means our entire life sustaining system, be it natural or technological, is becoming more vulnerable. Like the typical effects of monoculture farming. Or take computer viruses. In a badly arranged network of computers with different operating systems, a virus is no big deal: it contaminates one or two computers but that’s about it. But if you have highly efficient computers, all interconnected and all with the same operating system, software, et cetera, which is normally a positive thing for users and network efficiency, one virus will cause very serious problems. Then the virus will infect hundreds, or thousands or even millions of computers. The same system is threatening our life support system.”
“A computer virus?”
“No, a crash, a collapse.”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Just by weight of numbers alone we are all increasingly participants in a highly complex but integrated system. It is inevitable that at one point one of the components involved will be tested beyond its limits and will fail. The failure of this one component will have an effect on the rest of the system. Since they are all already highly strained, they will be forced beyond their limits by the effects of the one failed element, and so on until the whole system fails. This domino effect could happen extremely fast compared with any of the changes that have so far occurred in human history.”
John cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, but how would this system failure manifest itself? A nuclear power plant exploding?”
“No. That alone is not enough to initiate a system failure. There are a number of others that are more likely, including those that involve direct human activity. We might be talking about nuclear war or a manmade epidemic. But most failures come down to a lack of a natural resource.” He put on a transparency with a map of the Earth that showed the ocean currents. “Our current model calculated that the most likely catalyst for a collapse would be a failure of the Gulf Stream.”
The dark shadows in the corners of the room seemed to come creeping closer as he spoke.
“The Gulf Stream?” John echoed in disbelief.
Collins pointed at some arrows on the map with the point of a pencil. “The North Atlantic Drift, which it is actually called in the northern part of the globe, transports warm water from the tropics to Europe, which warms the cold air from the Arctic and brings in moisture. This assures a temperate climate and rains all the way to the Ural Mountains. The mechanism that propels the stream is the differing salt concentrations and temperatures. The farther north the water flows, the colder it gets and the more salt it contains due to evaporation. It eventually reaches a hypersaline state, as we say, and is then heavier than the other waters around it. This causes it to sink to the bottom of the ocean like a mighty submarine waterfall. This in turn produces a sort of suction that pulls more warm water up from the Gulf of Mexico.”
John thought about the grand view of the Atlantic as he’d flown over it many times and how huge this system must be. “That is such a giant process,” he said. “How could this be stopped?”
“Unfortunately, that is quite easy,” Collins answered with a grim look. “And I’m not speaking of a mere slowdown of the flow; I’m speaking of its complete cessation. To make this scenario possible it would suffice to warm up the northern hemisphere by about five percent. And we’re taking giant steps in that direction.” He placed another diagram on the projector with so many arrows and formulas that looked totally puzzling to John. “Allow me to explain roughly what will happen. A general warm-up will, as everyone knows, cause the glaciers to melt. A common notion here is that the only result would be rising sea levels, and we if we don’t live by the coast we don’t need to worry. But what could cause more problems than the rising ocean levels here in Europe is something quite different. The water from the melting ice is fresh water, which it is lighter than saltwater so it spreads over the ocean’s surface. It also freezes faster and during the winter it will freeze to a thin layer of pack ice, which insulates the warm tropical water from the cold temperature of the Arctic. This will prevent the air in the northern hemisphere from warming or acquiring moisture before it reaches Europe. Since this water cannot evaporate it won’t saturate with salt thus it simply spreads out over the northern oceans instead of sinking. The underwater waterfall stops and so does the suction action that brings more warm water from the south.” The scientist stopped talking and looked round at his audience in the room. “The weather in Europe will change from one year to the next; it will be like the weather in southern Alaska or central Siberia — cold, dry, and with a permafrost ground. Here in London the temperatures will hardly be above freezing even in the summer. There are a half a billion people in Europe … where would they go, how would they be fed? A chain reaction of political, economic, and social developments would result that would spell the end of our civilization as we know it.”
John felt his mouth go dry, and he could have sworn it got colder in the room. “How can this be prevented?” he wanted to know.
“By stopping the earth from warming up.”
“And how can that be done?”
“By reducing the output of carbon dioxide.”
“And how …?” John wanted to ask but McCaine interrupted him. “No, John, it won’t work like that. You’re going down the wrong path again. That is a linear problem solving method and this won’t work in a networked system. If you don’t keep the entire network in sight, you might solve one problem, but create a dozen others and make two dozen more even worse.” He looked at the professor. “Isn’t that right?”
Collins nodded. “More nuclear power plants, for instance, would markedly reduce the output of CO2, but would also increase the likelihood of a nuclear catastrophe.” He made a vague gesture with one hand. “The model demonstrated that the developments of critical domains are becoming more acute and the possible catalysts need be less serious to cause a collapse. If the Gulf Stream remains intact, then maybe ten years from now it might be enough to have, say a serious earthquake in Japan to cause the world economy to collapse. The aftermath could be hunger that is countered with overfishing, burning much more wood, and other desperate measures that will cause yet more ecological damage. It is also a fact that our entire civilization is getting more susceptible to epidemics, on the one hand, because microbes are very easily spread by our modern transportation systems, and, on the other hand, due to a general reduction of the efficiency of people’s immune system, which has a whole host of other causes. I could give you a long list of terrible possible catalysts for a collapse, but that would hide the fact that they are simply catalysts. Fuses, if you will. The actual explosives are the slower developments, like an increasing world population, increased industrialization, climate change, and so forth.”
The darkness oozed dow
n the walls like black blood when he switched the projector off.
“How much of what you just said,” McCaine asked, “is known to others, such as governments, organizations like the UN, and such?”
“Hard to say,” Professor Collins said. “Luckily, we currently have someone in the White House who knows about such matters — Vice President Al Gore. At least that’s the impression one gets from the book he wrote. I think the US government has knowledge similar to ours. But I’m afraid that any decisions they might make will have their national interest at the fore rather than global necessity.”
John placed his hands flat on the tabletop; a silly gesture, but he had the desire to touch something. Perhaps to make sure all this was real and not a dream. “How accurate is all this?” he asked in a low tone. His voice got swallowed up in the darkness but was still audible. “How dependable is your program, professor?”
“Except for the fundamental principles that go back to Forrester and Meadows, and so on, our model also utilizes the work done by Akira Onishi, who is currently developing the FUGI Global Model. FUGI is short for Futures of Global Interdependence. As the name already implies it calculates all correlations worldwide. It is a dynamic cybernetic model, which had the separate components developed by outstanding specialists who calibrated them using historic data. This means that our simulations start with the year 1900, which must deliver data that correlate to actual data gathered from then to now. And since they do so, we assume that we have ascertained the systematic relationships correctly, and that the calculations that go beyond today — into the future — are also correct.”
McCaine had his hands folded together. “Does FUGI deliver the same results as your model?”
“No. Professor Onishi works for the UN, his work concentrates on migration and refugee streams.” Collins was fingering a transparency that was stuck on the projector. “Besides that, we fundamentally get different results on substantial points than he does. Otherwise we could’ve just used his model.”
“I understand.” McCaine pushed his chair back. It made a sound that bizarrely reminded John of his grandfather’s funeral. When the lid to his casket was put in place and screwed down.
No one said anything. The stillness seemed to be merging with the darkness. Had it got colder or was John imagining it?
Professor Collins broke the silent spell with a nervous statement, saying: “It is necessary to make decisions as to what to do next. If the results of our calculations should be made public…”
“No,” McCaine said immediately. He took a deep breath and his hands grabbed the armrests of his chair. “Enough grim predictions have been made public already. These won’t help. No one wants to hear that anymore. Me neither, by the way.” He stood up with a speed and strength that displayed his vitality. “What I want to know is how we can prevent what you’ve predicted. That’s what your model should help us with. Will you still be in London tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Professor Collins nodded. “I have a room at the…”
“Good. We will meet again tomorrow morning. Bring that thick tome with you, the one that explains the systems. We will decide on every element that Fontanelli Enterprises has an influence over and also how big the changes are with each decision and element.” He paced back and forth. “I want you to run simulations with every possible combination of variations, until we know exactly what strategy we must follow to prevent catastrophe.”
Professor Collins sighed loudly. “You are aware that this will require many runs? These types of permutations may run into the millions or even billions…”
McCaine stopped. “So? You can have as many fast computers as you need. I will buy Deep Blue if it helps. All it did in the chess match was to calculate billions of combinations? And it won.” His eyes twinkled. “And that’s how we’ll do it too.”
The train rolled across the bridge leading to the other bank of the Elbe River, girders sped by the window. The harbor came into view. The sun shone warm and the cranes lining the port looked like strange giant animals, grazing by the sparkling river.
Hamburg! Yes, why not? Ursula Valen breathed against the window and watched how the mist from her breath quickly dissipated. She was contemplating moving away from Leipzig … if she found a job, though she wasn’t sure she even wanted one.
Why was she here? Did she really want to work in public relations for a business group? Of course not. The truth was she wanted to find a way out.
In retrospect, it had been a mistake to try to avoid the unavoidable. Sure, the electronics store that her father set up after the fall of the Berlin Wall was doing good business; it was his pride and joy. But not good enough. At least she should have insisted that the business move into a cheaper building before she started to invest her own money to sort out the finances, and to sign on loans that she would be paying off for the rest of her life. At least they should have moved as soon as the rent had skyrocketed. But the way things were, no amount of expansion would have helped anymore, neither the new employees nor the expensive ads on the trams. Her father had to close down in the end, and was lucky to find a job with one of his former customers.
The results of two years’ hard work: her money was gone, she was drowning in debt and instead of her doctorate had barely managed to scrape through her master’s program and had a grade average not worth the paper it was written on. What added to her anger were the enormous costs for caring for her grandfather that finally dealt the family business the fatal blow. Why were all those damned old Nazis so long-lived? Eighty-eight years old he was, still robust, “tough as leather and hard as Krupp steel” … the whole crappy Hitler Youth slogans. He got all the other residents to rebel against the employees of the old folks home, tyrannized the foreign-born nurses with racist slurs, and then celebrated when the ones with dark skin refused to have anything to do with him. It was her parents who had to deal with the consequences, as usual. If it was at all possible, he was even more difficult to deal with after the Wall had come down. When the old communist East Germany had still existed at least he had spent time in jail, on several occasions. “You should have poisoned me sooner,” was all he had to say when they told him that he ruined another dream of theirs. Although Ursula Valen didn’t believe in God, she sometimes had a feeling that he did exist, because he was reluctant to take grandfather and have to put up with him.
The train rolled into the station. For a moment she was startled, thinking she had returned to Leipzig, the two stations were so alike. She got out of the train and flowed with the moving crowd trying to think about the interview ahead but still thinking about her parents. They were old and exhausted, simple people who only wished to live a decent life, and she was their only silver lining, the daughter, their only child. Whatever might end up taking her away from Leipzig would also take her away from them.
In thought, she looked at the subway map to find the right route. Things didn’t seem to have changed much in Hamburg since her last trip to the city. It was almost exactly two years ago. It had been a rewarding trip back then, but she had turned down all the job offers. Now she didn’t know why.
Three hours later it was over. She was told that they would be in touch, but in a tone of voice that she had learned the meaning of. She went out through the large glass doors and stopped for a moment, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling as if she had been holding it in all along. Relief! And now she had an entire afternoon before the train departed for the return trip.
“Hamburg? Then you have to pay a visit to the Parapluie Bleue,” someone had told her when she mentioned her trip. She had no idea what it was. “It is a bistro near the Gänsemarkt. It has a blue umbrella sign over the entrance, you can’t miss it.” What was so special about the place? Just go there and have a look. The guy who gave her the tip was a journalist who used to be a reporter for Stern and was now a senior executive at the Leipziger.
It turned out to be worth the trip. Located on a quiet street off to the side fro
m the crowded Gänsemarkt-Passage it had a faceless dummy balancing a ten-foot blue umbrella in an outstretched hand that automatically opened and closed. She went in and looked around. It was filled with people and smelled of toasted bread and ham. She suddenly felt hungry. She took a seat on one of the stools by the bar.
The man behind the bar finished filling two beers and placed the glasses on the waitress’s tray, then turned to Ursula. She dropped the menu when she saw his face; it was Wilfried van Delft.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.
Van Delft wasn’t any less surprised when he recognized her. He lifted the bar towel he was holding, smiled, and said, “Working.”
She idly glanced round expecting to see packed shelves full of manuscripts, magazines and books, children’s drawings on pin boards, but found only umbrellas in all colors and sizes, and umbrella stands and framed photos of the rainy city. “But …“
Van Delft looked past her, his chin suddenly as hard as steel. “I was thinking about calling you,” he said, “to tell you that they gave me the boot.”
$29,000,000,000,000
THE BISTRO EMPTIED at around two in the morning, and van Delft finally had time to sit at her table to talk. “The bistro belongs to my brother and his wife. It’s amazing how much money you can make in a place like this, it’s almost tempting to open one up,” he told her with a thin smile, a very thin smile. “But, of course, this isn’t what I wanted to for the rest of my life.”
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